Waking Dream
by Untitled Playlist
Summary: We never truly appreciate linear thought until it’s ripped away from us. When you can’t remember who you are, nothing else really matters. All you want is the truth, and you want it now. Slight AU.
1. Look Up and You're Gone

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Heroes.

**Author's Note: **This is very different from my normal cracky formula. It's very disjointed and not all of the sentences flow normally, but I think the way it came out gets the point across. I hope you enjoy it!

**Waking Dream**

**Chapter 1**

Look up and you're Gone

White wasn't so much a color as it was a room these days. It was all he saw, day in and day out, and it was driving him mad. Yes, he wasn't the type of person that needed color in his daily life, but it had been six months since he'd seen anything other than the stark blankness of his walls. Seeing a spot of black would have probably kept him transfixed for hours.

This was his life now.

His days of killing and collecting were gone, his powers stripped from him so carefully that there were moments that he believed that he still possessed them.

'_That day in the sun room, when was it…two weeks ago_?'

_He went for something out of his reach and it slid to him. It had crossed-_[The food here was never really that satisfying.]

He shook his head angrily, trying to retrieve his earlier thought process. He wasn't thinking about food, he was thinking about…

his abilities.

'_That day in the sun room, when was it…two weeks ago_?'

_He went for something out of his reach and it slid to him. It had crossed that expanse of space by itself, without provocation, and pressed itself into his waiting palm._

Or did it?

[The blankets here were so itchy. Sometimes he would scratch himself raw from raking his nails across his flesh.]

He shook his head again, pressing his hands against his eyes as he grunted in frustration. Everything here was like trying to remember a dream. Thoughts just in your reach but the moment you believed you had grabbed onto something solid, it was already gone, fluttering even further away from you.

'_What day was it?_'

Monday, Saturday…did it even matter? It wasn't as if remembering the day would answer anything important.

_The bingo chip, it felt so smooth and real in his grasp. The surface cool and solid and he had known that that chip had found its way into his palm._

_**Police Tape.**_

_**Screaming.**_

_**Blood.**_

_**Forgive Me.**_

His head was pounding now, his eyes watering from the pain. And just like every other nameless day, it was useless, this process of trying to remember even the smallest detail of his life before his imprisonment.

Imprisonment.

Imprisonment…

'_Is that really what this is?' _

Everything was out of his reach now and sleep was setting in fast. His eye-lids trembled with the effort of trying to be kept open but just like everything else, it was fruitless. Within moments the battered man was unconscious and spread out across the floor, lost in a sea of dreams that the harder he tried to understand, the more confusing they became.

|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|

"He's relentless now."

A small woman with a clipboard held tightly in her grasp stated softly, her voice worried.

"We knew this wasn't going to be easy when we took him…" her companion responded coolly, "We'll be fine."

"He's not like the others." the woman pointed out, "He's going to keep on trying and he _is_ going to eventually find an opening."

She bit her lip when the taller man looked down on her with disapproving eyes, "Go do your rounds Elle."

She nodded silently and turned away, opening and shutting the door quietly behind her as she left.

When she knew she was a safe distance from the room, she ran a hand through her hair and let out a frustrated sigh. Six months and they barely had had an incident, two at the most.

And that's what worried her.

Plans that worked out well, too well, were normally short lived; especially when something deadly was thrown into the mix. Lately it felt as if their time was running out and she didn't know how she was supposed to do anything about it. With a father who wouldn't listen to a word out of her mouth unless she was offering coffee, and no actual authority of her own, the task before her wasn't going to be an easy one. Then again, they never were.

She could contact Angela, but the older woman would probably brush her off just as quickly as her father had, probably faster. She had no patience for her own sons, let alone the daughter of a colleague who was going based off of gut instinct rather than fact.

She stopped as a metallic thud sounded on the door next to her and she peeked into the room using the small window provided. Pinning her clipboard under her arm, she pulled out the syringe tucked away in her pocket.

"Adam, if you don't stop slamming your head against the door, I'm going to have to sedate you."

The blonde man continued on, ignoring her warnings completely and Elle shook her head as she unlocked the door. Not even the patients listened to her.

|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|*|

"_My name is Chan- -esh"_

All his memories sounded like bad audio pouring from an old stereo. Bits and pieces of vital information bleeped out or dropping off all together, leaving him to fill in the blanks. On normal circumstances he wouldn't mind, he was always up for a challenge, never backing down from intellectual stimulation…but this was different.

It felt as if someone had thumbed through his very thoughts and memories and sliced out the bits they wanted, leaving him with a subconscious and memory bank that closely resembled Swiss cheese.

"Gabriel."

Slowly the addressed raised his gaze, meeting a pair of eyes framed in glasses looking down at him from that perfect square window in the door.

"Are we feeling better?"

'Are we feeling anything?'would have been a more appropriate question. Choosing to ignore the statement, he directed his attention back to the floor, hoping that this would convey the appropriate message.

"You know today's our session, Gabriel." The voice persisted, "Whether you choose to acknowledge me or not, I'm still here."

'_What a shame.'_

"Come on Gabriel." the static voice urged through the tiny speaker it was being emitted from, "stand up so we can restrain you."

'_Restraints, how offensive'. _

He wasn't an animal. He was a human being just like the rest of them. Why was he the one being constrained when they were the ones wielding the stun guns and needles, drugging anyone who didn't conform to their way of thinking? Half the patients had been taken down by force at least once, the other half resorting to holding themselves and staring out into nothingness, expressions forever blank.

They were the ones who were insane.

He would never allow himself to-

The hallway was colder than his room. It felt as if someone was cooling the building with liquid nitrogen; it was biting at his skin. His restraints making it feel that much more penetrating.

Confused the brunette looked around, "How did I get here?"

"You co-operated Gabriel, don't you remember?" the balding man explained calmly, "Today is our session."

"But…I was sitting on the floor." his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he tried his best to remember the past five minutes.

"I see that writing things down hasn't been helping with your memory loss." The psychiatrist jotted something down on the legal pad he was carrying, "We'll have to try something different."

Doors drifted passed, each identical to the last. They stopped at one that also looked exactly like the rest.

Everything here was so ordinary.

Everything here was the same.

No one here was special.

The doctor shooed away the two guards that had been walking behind them silently, ready at a moments notice to execute necessary force.

"I think today is going to be a good day Gabriel."

The couch inside the office was soft, designed to make you feel comfortable, to make you relax, to make you want to spill any and all of your secrets. The couch was just like them.

"So how have you been Gabriel?"

"Why do you keep saying my name?"

"Because that's who you are, isn't it?"

Was it?

"It is." he answered quietly, "but you don't have to keep repeating it."

The doctor gave a small smile and bowed his head in apology, "I'm sorry, I'll stop." He picked up a file folder and flipped it open, shuffling through the many sheets inside.

"You never answered my question."

The brunette, Gabriel, struggled. He couldn't even form a cohesive thought in his head, how could he describe complete and utter loss?

"Broken." Gabriel whispered.

The doctor nodded and scribbled on his legal pad, "That's an interesting word choice."

Gabriel looked up, "Is it?"

"Well, it's normally used in terms of objects. A broken lamp for example or a watch even, not a person."

Watch.

A watch.

'_I can fix that.'_

"Timepiece."

"Hmm?" the psychiatrist's glasses glinted in the sunlight streaming in through the blinds on the windows.

"I'm sorry, I've always preferred calling them timepiece's." Gabriel admitted somewhat bashfully.

"And why's that?"

The brunette thought for a while, but his thoughts seemed a constant loop of gibberish. Nothing more than white noise.

"I don't know." he pinched the bridge of his nose, bending over his knees slightly "I can't remember."

"Are you feeling alright?" there was a creak of wood as the doctor shifted in his chair.

"I have a headache."

"A symptom of the amnesia." the psychiatrist declared.

Amnesia.

Amnesia.

Was that really what this was?

"I..." he pressed a hand against his forehead "I keep forgetting things. I keep losing my train of thought. Is-is that also a symptom?"

"It's very common in advance cases like yours."

The words were meant to bring comfort, to make him feel at ease with his condition. Dread was all he took from the statement.

Advance cases.

"What happened?" he asked after his headache had passed. He looked up at the doctor sitting across from him, studying his facial expression closely.

The psychiatrist placed a closed fist against his lips and cleared his throat, arranging himself in his seat again. "You were in a car accident." his voice was careful, "Your mother died and you were flung through the windshield like a rag doll. It's a miracle you're still alive."

His mother was dead.

"My mother's dead?" the patient's voice was flat while processing this information.

"Yes, I'm sorry."

He wasn't. They both weren't.

"You can only remember events before the accident."

His eyebrows furrowed again.

Was that true? Could he only remember things before the accident? But that day in the sun room wh-

His bed was soft beneath him. He sank into it as he sat on the edge, watching his doctor silently.

"You've really come a long way Gabriel. You should feel proud of yourself."

He was back in his room.

'_When did I get here?'_

As he opened his mouth to say something, the psychiatrist cut him off, "Our session has probably tired you out. Get some rest."

Rest.

Rest sounded good.

The door shut with a heavy clunk and he was alone again in his too white room, locked in this place where everything was the same and no one was special…but something was different.

"I can fix that."


	2. Tonight It's Worse

**Waking Dream**

**Chapter 2**

Tonight It's Worse

Flickering lights always added a certain touch to destruction.

Chairs and tables were thrown everywhere, leaning up against various walls and doors. Some trapped in the walls themselves.

And everything was quiet.

The patients locked away in their rooms didn't dare shift. They may have been insane, but they weren't stupid. Something dangerous was lurking in their halls and they were not about to have it turn on them.

The screaming had stopped a while ago and he was grateful for that. The empty halls caused the sound to bounce everywhere and it made his eardrums ring painfully.

His head still hurt and he didn't need that kind of agitation.

It all happened so quickly, a blur, just like his memories.

What had he done?

…6 Hours Earlier…

"Idiots!"

The doctor looked at the young telepaths in front of him, their heads bowed. They knew what was expected of them yet they had failed to produce the result.

They were slipping.

"You two were the top of your class!" the psychiatrist scolded, tossing his legal pad down onto the table separating them. The other occupants of the break room shot looks at each other and quickly scurried out into the hall, deciding that being with the patients was probably better than being with the doctor at the moment.

"He's…" one of the telepath's started, shuffling his foot in embarrassment. "He's really difficult. It's hard to hide everything from him…even with two of us."

The telepath looked up meeting the older gentleman's gaze, "And are you so sure it's us? The other pa-"

"You two were scheduled to be on during my session with him, correct?"

Losing his steam the young telepath looked back down at his shoes.

"He remembers timepieces," the psychiatrist continued, pacing now. "And he doesn't believe that what he has is amnesia."

"Well he's always been inquisitive," the girl offered quietly. "Maybe he just doesn't trust you."

The doctor's mad pacing halted and he turned to look at the girl. "I shouldn't have to worry about him trusting me. It's your job to make sure that he's a zombie, a shadow of his former self. Don't blame me for your faults."

He unclipped the small walkie on his belt and put it to his mouth, pushing the button. "Elle."

Static sounded for a few seconds.

"Yes?"

"I need you in the break room."

He didn't wait for a response and turned the walkie off, clipping it back to his belt.

"I have a dinner date with an old colleague, so I can't handle you two right now." the doctor informed as he looked at the pair. "But when I get back, you two had better have worked this out."

Before he turned around the small blonde woman walked through the swinging door, stopping it in its motion.

"What's wrong?" she asked, glancing around.

"I need you to come up with a way to keep Sylar down. He cannot break through."

Elle looked at the two telepath's trying to keep her face neutral. Her suspicions were coming true, he was just too strong.

The doctor walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, "I need you to fix this." And with that, he left.

Elle watched his retreating form and shook her head, stepping into the room. He could have cleared up the matter easily himself, but why miss a chance to give her busy work?

She placed her ever present clipboard down on the table and sat, gesturing for the two telepaths to do the same.

"What's going on?"

The girl adjusted herself and looked up, "He's breaking through. Your father says that he remembers timepieces."

Elle nodded slowly, licking her lips. "Anything else?"

The boy ran a hand through his hair, "He repeats 'I can fix that' a lot in his head. It's actually really annoying."

Elle smirked and scribbled the phrase down.

"Who controls thought process?"

"I do," the girl answered, tucking a piece of her brown hair behind her ear.

"So you're memories?" Elle questioned, looking at the boy. He nodded, looking a bit sheepish.

"Okay." She jotted something else down on her clipboard. "I'm going to put an older telepath in with you two, he or she will help you suppress his memories."

The boy shifted in his seat, looking down at the floor. If his partner was bothered by the change, she didn't show it. Their internship here would decide where they would be placed in the future. Whether they would be able to feed future families or have to scrounge up whatever they could find wherever they could find it.

Their lives depended on this, and Elle felt sorry for them.

Feeling uncomfortable, Elle grabbed her father's legal pad along with her clipboard, said goodbye to the duo and left them to enjoy what was left of their break, feeling guilty for having a hand in ruining it.

She would have to tell her father what was going on. How he would take the idea of her bringing on another telepath was a mystery. No matter how well she thought she knew him, he would always surprise her with a contrasting response. She was a firm believer that he needed a psychiatrist himself.

Rapping on a tall white metal door at the end of one of their many halls, she waited patiently for the sound of the door unlocking. She backed up slowly as it came, and the metal door creaked open, revealing a room the size of a small kitchen. Two people sat in comfortable looking chairs, both involved in a game of chess. They looked up at her with questioning eyes.

"What's he been up to?" Elle questioned as she stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. She looked at the three TV's adorning the wall, each with a different view of the sleeping man.

"Catching up on sleep," one of the men responded, his attention back on the chess board.

"Anything unusual?"

"Not lately."

Elle nodded, not entirely trusting the two. They were both older telepaths, both set in their lives with wives and children. Their minds tended to drift to other things rather than keeping their attentions on the task at hand. She preferred the younger ones.

"He's been sleeping a lot," the other offered, moving a piece.

"His body is being forced to forget things and black out at any moment. It's a normal response." She glanced down at her wrist watch, checking the time. "Has he been repeating 'I can fix that'?"

The older of the two stretched, grunting as he did so. "He was, but he stopped once his head hit the pillow."

She let out a sigh and adjusted her white coat. "Page me if anything." She turned around and opened the door, pushing on it with her shoulder.

It should have calmed her to know that he had stopped thinking that constant statement...it didn't.

… 2 Hours Earlier …

"_My name is Chandra –resh"_

Slowly but surely some pieces were floating back to him. It was as if someone had built a dam and the foundation was just beginning to crack. He couldn't wait for it to breach.

Sleep was prominent at the moment. It seemed that every few hours he would go drowsy and slip away into unconsciousness. He hated it. It always happened when he was onto something, finally getting somewhere in his confusion.

What was going on?

"_You have amnesia."_

No.

No he didn't have amnesia. The doctor was lying and that didn't surprise him.

Everyone here was lying.

"_My name is Chandra –resh"_

Why couldn't he remember?

Frustrated, he stood on shaky legs and slowly began to pace the length of his small room. Who couldn't he remember?

Why was everything so-The window in his room was so small and so close to the ceiling, at times he wished it was bigger so it would let in more light.

He groaned in annoyance, his pacing growing more frantic.

Why couldn't he remember?

If he could just grab onto some solid idea-The sunlight was beautiful, especially in the morning. It made his room so bright, almost blindingly so.

Growling he ground his teeth together and crashed his shin against his bed frame.

"_My name is Chandra Suresh."_

He watched silently as the frame shuddered from the agitation. He had a name. He remembered a name.

What else could he remember?

*****

"He has a name."

Elle sat motionless, listening to the silence that followed. He had a name.

Shit.

"When did this happen?" her voice was low and hurried.

"About 5 minutes ago."

She bit her lip and bounced slightly in her chair. "How did it get through?"

"To be honest I'm not sure. He kicked his bed and the next thing I knew he remembered Suresh's name."

She tilted her head back looking up at the ceiling. Why was it that all critical matters happened on her watch?

She glanced nervously at the time and sighed. It was 7:30 and her dad wouldn't be back for another hour. She could fix this. Hopefully.

"Can you block it?"

"Yeah I can block it, but that doesn't mean that he won't remember something else."

Elle sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead, the beginnings of a migraine coming on. She would have to up his sedatives, making his thought process slower and less coherent. It was the only way.

"He's awake now?"

"Yes."

"Block it."

Static crackled over the line.

"Are you sure?"

No, she wasn't sure. Before she upped his dosage she needed to run it by her father, meaning she would have to wait for him to finish dinner. Waiting wouldn't make anything better.

"Yes."

Silently she prayed that she had made the right decision instead of a horribly wrong one.

*****

As quickly as the name had come, it had gone again.

The only thing left was the empty feeling that he had forgotten something important, and it angered him.

What had he forgotten again?!

He couldn't explain it, but he was certain now that he didn't have amnesia. He would never-The room was pristine, everything in its place, just how he liked it.

Tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes, leaving long wet trails in their wake. Who was he if he couldn't remember? Humans are products of their past. Memories make up who we are.

Who was he if he didn't have any?

Nobody.

And a nobody cannot become somebody.

He would never be special.

His legs gave out from under him and he tumbled to the floor, but it didn't matter. This endless loop of remembering and forgetting was exhausting and he couldn't do it anymore. His tears were hot against his skin but he didn't care.

'_You're broken.' _

**Wires. **

**Yellow. **

**Brian Davis.**

Thoughts were racing past him so quickly now that he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

A dull throbbing pain slowly crept up the base of his neck and engulfed his entire skull.

What was happening?

… 7 minutes Earlier …

"You said everything was going to be fine and you were wrong!" Elle fumed, running a shaking hand through her hair.

"This is just a minor set back." Her father assured her, his eyes never leaving the security monitor in front of him.

"People are dead, you call that minor?" she hissed. "We've lost, _dad." _

Screaming could be heard from the halls, it swirled around them tugging at their stomachs. They were losing time fast.

"Angela is already aware of the situation. She will handle this."

"Well it's nice to know that after we're dead the Petrelli's will still do what's best for themselves."

The doctor glared at his daughter, not appreciating her comment on the situation. What he and Angela were doing was in everyone's best interest, not just the Petrelli family.

"As usual you have no idea what you're talking about."

Elle narrowed her eyes at her father as the door to his office blew in off its hinges. She pressed herself against a wall and watched as it bounced against the floor, now a piece of scrap metal.

She hated being right.

....

The stunned brunet looked down at his stained hands and flexed them. He remembered this.

The feeling of completion.

A goal had been reached, but which one…he couldn't remember. Glancing around at the destruction he tried to recall but his thoughts felt…muffled. Something still wasn't right.

But it was okay, he was free now.

He could find out who he was.

He could be somebody.

He could be special.


	3. Let Me Be Your Swear Word

**Author's Note: **Not sure if anyone is still following this, or was even following considering I didn't get any reviews for the second chapter *sadface*. Anyway, here's an update that should have been posted months ago considering it's just been sitting on my computer doing nothing, oopsie. Hope you enjoy it!…if anyone is reading.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Heroes, and don't plan to.

**Waking Dream**

**Chapter 3 **

Let Me Be Your Swear Word

Stumbling was the only thing he could manage at the moment. He hadn't realized how much his body had suffered.

Captivity is degenerative.

Tripping against a tree he rested, catching his breath. He didn't know where he was going, what he was running too, but if it meant answers…he would brave it.

Before he left the hospital he made sure to snatch a jacket from one of the guards. It was long enough to not look idiotic, but not enough to make him invisible.

Sirens wailed as they zipped passed him, taking no notice to the man in patients' garb. He smirked.

'_Who said you can't get away with murder?'_

Traipsing through the scattered trees he did his best to stay off the road, knowing he would be stopped if seen.

His mind was on one thing and one thing alone.

Chandra Suresh.

He needed a phone book.

Pausing he gripped his head, wincing a bit. It was still swirling, still taking confusion and melding it into complete nonsense. But it was getting better, he could think now…somewhat.

Grass and leaves crunched beneath his slippered feet. The sound carried him easily through the scattered trees and even more scattered thoughts. He could do this. He had to do this.

The idea of New York seemed fuzzy to him, like a picture blurring at the edges. He remembered living in Queens…but where? Did he truly ever live there or was his mind believing the lies he had been told back at the hospital. He should have searched his file.

Cursing he slammed an angry fist against the hard bark of a tree.

His thoughts provided him no answer this time and he cursed again. His mind wasn't healing fast enough. Forgetting was like a cancer, it ate away at his mind, completely relentless. Breaking out should have fixed it, but something was still happening.

Suresh would have the answer.

* * *

"_Scattered thunderstorms expected throughout the day so make sure you remember to pack that umbrella. Now let's take a look at-"_

"Molly I thought I told you I don't like you watching the news." Mohinder griped as he walked briskly passed her, heading for the kitchen.

"Ms. Pearson says it's good to keep up with current events." Molly quipped happily, her eyes never leaving the screen.

"Ms. Pearson obviously doesn't have children." The Indian man mumbled under his breath, twisting and tugging at the dangling piece of cloth at his neck. Ties weren't his specialty.

With an annoyed sigh he snatched the article from around his neck and threw it on the tabletop, running an aggravated hand through his hair. It seemed that it was just going to be one of those days.

"…_local Psychiatric hospital 'Bishop Hill' in Hartsdale, New York…"_

Bishop Hill.

Bishop Hill.

Now that was a place he hadn't heard of in quite some time.

Cold fear dribbled down Mohinder's spine and slowly he turned towards the screen, practically leaping across the room.

"Turn the volume up." he urged Molly.

"…_the scene of a series of gruesome murders…"_

"Go put your raincoat on Molly"

"Bu-"

"Now."

The young brunette sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling herself off the floor and running into her room to retrieve the item.

Mohinder lowered himself onto the edge of the sofa, his eyes fixed on the pictures displayed on the screen.

"…_founder and head doctor Bob Bishop and daughter Elle Bishop were among the deceased."_

His pocket vibrated. Someone else had heard the news.

He wasn't ready to answer.

"_Officials have stated that the patient's body was found five miles from the hospital, cause of death is still to be determined but poison is suspected. Whether the hospital is to remain open is unknown but the remaining patients, along with personnel not being held for questioning, are being transported to sister hospital 'Eden Road' in nearby Scarsdale…"_

The vibrating was quite insistent. Shaky hands fumbled the phone out of his pocket before flipping it open and pressing it to his ear.

"Are you watching thi-"

"Yes." Mohinder hissed, his voice low, eyes staring unseeing at the screen now.

"Their saying it was another patient not Sylar."

"Are you really surprised?" Mohinder responded, his body numb.

This couldn't be happening.

"No." the voice sighed, "Just when you start getting used to the idea that you're safe."

Mohinder stood, sitting still wasn't an option. "This is no time to try and be light hearted Peter."

"Have you heard from Matt?" the younger Petrelli asked, ignoring his friends remark.

"Not yet, but something tells me I will be soon." tell tale thumping from the hall reminded him of the young presence still within earshot. Checking to see if she was standing behind him, Mohinder was relieved to find that she wasn't.

"Peter I can't really talk right now, I have to take Molly to school."

"Right, parenthood." Peter chuckled, "Tell Molly 'hi' for me."

"How you can still maintain your pleasant demeanor in a situation like this is a mystery to me."

"Call me when you can talk." Peter smiled, a click following shortly.

Mohinder returned the mobile to his pocket and grabbed his blazer from the back of a chair.

Sylar was free and Peter was right. Just when you got used to the idea of safety and solace, it was always ripped out from under you when you least expected it.

* * *

Cold reached his bones as he trudged alongside the wet road. The sound of the rain hitting the pavement was a gruesome reminder of how biting it was.

_**Screaming.**_

_**Blood.**_

_**Scissors.**_

These flashes were doing nothing for him. The pictures blinking across his memory didn't help him remember, it just made him angrier.

Flickering eyelids tried to close but he fought against it, concentrating on the motion of his legs. He tried his best to remember something coherent narrowing his eyes in the process.

The sun room. The smooth bingo chip that he hadn't reached for.

How did that happen?

The brunet felt moronic asking himself these questions, it wasn't as if his touched mind was going to answer him.

"_My name is Chandra Suresh." _

He knew that already. The statement curled around his mind as if taunting it with the small revelation.

Why was Suresh so important?

_**Timepieces. **_

This he didn't mind. He could form small tiny thoughts now, he could handle this.

Timepieces.

Timepieces.

"_I can fix that."_

Progress was always something to smile about.

* * *

"Molly's in school Matt, she's fine."

"Do you know what this means?" Matt stressed, his panic streaming through the phone like water.

"Yes I know what this means. I've cancelled all my classes and I'm packing as we speak."

Mohinder grunted, as if to emphasize his point, as he picked up an overstuffed suitcase and placed it by his bedroom door.

"Where are you going?"

"Where do you think Matthew." Mohinder snipped, folding up some of Molly's favorite clothes and packing them into a smaller duffle bag.

"You're unbelievable, still pissy even at a time like this."

"It was an idiotic question. Like I would be dumb enough to stay in the city with a newly crazed Sylar on the streets." Mohinder paused in his ministrations and quickly walked to Molly's room, picking up some of her favorite gadgets.

"I'm assuming you've already called your mom." Matt continued, shuffling around his home in an attempt to stave off the tingle of paranoia.

"Yes, she's already expecting us."

The Indian man ran a hand down his face and looked out the window.

How much closer was he now?

"Do you think he knows what was going on?" Matt asked after a short silence, his voice hushed.

Mohinder stood silent, his stomach doing back flips at the thought. "Let's hope not." he responded, voice equally low.

If Sylar knew what they had done to him, they were already dead.

A knock at the door sounded and Mohinder practically jumped out of his skin, dropping the phone in the process. He picked it up quickly and put it back to his ear.

"I have to let you go, Peter's here."

"Ask who it is before you open the door!" Matt demanded, "Look through the peep hole."

"You really think Sylar would knock? I'll talk to you later Matt." before the telepath could say goodbye Mohinder snapped the phone shut and opened the door, letting Peter in.

"How did you know it was me? What if it was Sylar?" the empath questioned as he set down his messenger bag on the table.

Mohinder ignored the question and closed the door, snapping the locks shut.

As if they would hold out what would inevitably find him.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Mohinder questioned, true concern in his voice as he looked at his friend.

"Mohinder, I'm fine here. If Sylar comes to find me I'll be ready for him." Peter smiled easily. "My home is here besides, I don't have any kids that I need to protect. You're doing the right thing leaving."

Mohinder couldn't help but smile at the younger man's statement. Peter, ever the optimist.

"Molly should be home from school soon. Let me get her bags."

The genetics professor went to his room and a carried two very large suitcases into the living room. Peter didn't hide his astonishment.

"Oh my God. How much crap does Molly have?"

Mohinder shot him a look and handed one to the brunet. "Lets load up the car before she gets here."

Opening the door Mohinder pried a screwdriver between the hinge to keep it open while they carried the luggage out.

Peter huffed as he walked down the steps, taking one at a time. "Does she know that you're not leaving till tomorrow?"

"Not yet." Mohinder answered, worry evident in his tone. "She's going to be furious."

"She has every right to be." Peter stated simply, stopping at the last step to take a breath. "You should be going with her."

"I have to make sure that my replacement has all the proper paperwork." the professor responded, waiting for his friend to catch his breath. "I'll be on a plane by noon tomorrow."

'_If everything goes well.'_

The two stood quiet for a while, both thinking over the eminent danger that was making its way towards their lives. Towards their loved ones.

And no one had any control over the situation.

"What's Matt doing?" Peter asked softly, picking up the bag and carrying it through the doorway and outside.

"He's flying in tomorrow. He and Bennet are going to try and find Sylar before he finds us." Mohinder informed him, hefting up the bag and putting it on top of the trunk of Peter's car.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and he looked up. The sky's were overcast, the grayish black didn't help the mood floating over the two. A raindrop plopped on the back of scientist's hand and he stared at it.

How do you convince yourself that everything is going to be okay when you know it won't be?

* * *

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